found one that measured twenty-three feet. I have related
this snake story several times, but was always very particular to know
that the gentleman who told me was at some other place.

CHAPTER III.

HEALTHFULNESS AT THE SWAMP.

Although the Dismal Swamp is so uninviting, it is one of the
healthiest places in the United States. Death from disease has never
been known in that place, and it is impossible to tell what age one
would attain if they would take up their abode in it. I have been told
that instances were known where persons were found who were so old
that they had moss growing on their backs, and who could give no idea
of their age. I once knew a family by the name of Draper, who lived in
the Swamp near the edge of the Lake. What became of them I do not
know; the spot where the house stood now forms a part of the Lake. The
constant washing of the western shore causes rapid encroachments, and
it is only a question of time when it will reach the high lands. It is
in the Dismal Swamp that Lake Drummond was discovered, by whom I do
not know, but is said to have been found by a man named Drummond,
whose name it bears; that will make no difference with me, the
question is, how came it there? Was it a freak of nature, or was it
caused by warring of the elements, is a question for the consideration
of those who visit it? That it was the effect of fire caused by
lightning setting fire to the turf, or some dead tree, there can be no
doubt. At what time in the Christian era this eventful period was, it
is not, nor never will be, known. Suffice it to say, that it was found
and is the wonder and admiration of all that have ever visited it. It
is a broad sheet of water, covering an area of five by seven miles,
and is surrounded by a dense growth of woods, so thick that you cannot
see the Lake until you are within a few feet of it. Many visitors have
visited it, all of whom were struck with astonishment at the sight.
It is ten miles southeast of Suffolk. I will now relate some of the
adventures of my first trip. It was on a bright morning, early in the
month of May, 1832, that my father and I started for "Lake Drummond,"
or the Lake of the "Dismal Swamp," as some call it; and as all
preparations had been made the night before, there was nothing to
prevent us from making an early start. The idea of my going to the
Lake had driven sleep from my eyes, and I was ready to start at any
time; but it was not until the grey